Black Plague

[lilgamefreek]

My story I'm working on.

I screwed up on the speech, I know, I'm not that good with essays and speeches and stuff.

The Black Plague, one of the most infamous epidemics that have ever occurred in history. It spread through the Old World like wildfire, decimating the population. Almost one-third of the total European population died from the disease. It plummeted the medieval world into chaos, shaking the foundation of the Feudal System.

but what if it happened today…

What if the AIDS virus was a devolutioned form of the Black Plague? What if it was merely a less virulent form of it, killing slowly in a decade or two rather than a single hour? Yet what if the AIDS virus began to retrace its ancestral steps, becoming more volatile to suit a changing world? What if it became airborne, was able to spread like the flu? What if it was passed on by mere touch? Would the world be different? Would the world be protected by the advanced medical sciences of its day, or will it succumb as the medieval world did in the past?

Let us say it did, that it began to spread like wildfire from Asia, where its ancestor started hundreds of years before. Let us say people began to be rushed into hospitals by the hundreds for their harsh cough, internal bleeding. Let us say the disease then spread to the doctors, the nurses. Let us say that hospitals that were once teeming with miracles began to have their own doctors dieing in their beds. Let us say it continued, traveling to the Middle East, then Europe and Africa, and the same thing happens there.

Yet somehow the United States of America escaped from it all. Somehow, they were able to close off all transportation coming from the foreign countries. All trade ceased, communication severed, families separated. The United States had become isolated from a dieing world. The rest of the Americas would follow in suit; all the countries of South and North America became an isolated group of countries, like a small group of friends, only talking amongst themselves, excluding all other people from there conversations. Products made in China are rapidly replaced by products made in Canada, Ecuador, Cuba. The world changes for the families. No longer could they speak to the relatives they loved so much, to the children that had left, to the parents the had at home.

The Black Plague, one of the most infamous epidemics that have ever occurred in history. It spread through the Old World like wildfire, decimating the population. Almost one-third of the total Old World population died from the disease. It plummeted the modern world into darkness, ending a chapter and starting a new one as it did in the past.








“My son is over there!”

A sudden silence swept over the crowd as a sobbing woman dashed onto the stage. People all over the United States saw as the cameras turned unexpectedly away from the president and toward the woman, now struggling with two guards who were trying to get her off stage.

“My son is over their! My son is across an entire ocean fighting a stupid war and this is how you repay him?” tears were streaming down her pale face, making her brown hair stick. The guards continued to try and pull her back, grabbing hold of her arms. She at last relented, allowing herself to be dragged off the stage. Yet she did not cease screaming, “My son is over their! My dear son! My Son!” As she slowly slipped back into the crowd, she gave off a last feeble moan and said dejectedly, “My son.”

An eerie silence hung in the air for a few more seconds. Some of the crowd began to softly murmur amongst each other. At last the president gave an authoritive cough and began his speech where he had left off:

“…If North and South America shout themselves off from the rest of the world, we will affectively stop the disease from passing into our borders. The virus will not be able to cross into our lands by air or by host. We will be, in effect, the opposite of quarantined. Isolated from everyone to save our selves.
“It will be hard on many of our nation’s families. Some will never see there family overseas. My heart goes out to them, and, I hope there family survives. But, we must think for the good of our nation. We must protect our citiczens. Yet most of all we must protect ourselves.
“The disease has already done its damage. There is no longer any hope in curing it, no longer any hope in wiping it out and saving our friends. All we can do is bide our time and wait for this event to end. If we don’t it will certainly be the doom of us all. The virus, will sweep through our nation, unmerciful to anyone. Perhaps a third, or even half of our nation will die if we do not take the correct action. We cannot allow our nation’s children, our women, our men to fall victim to this sickness.
“No longer can we ignore the fact that this is a global problem. All measures must be taken to insure the safety of the American people. Yet this is no common enemy. You cannot go to war with it. You cannot befriend it. The only thing you can do is hide from it, and that is what we must do. We must sever all connections with the Europe, Africa, and Asia. We cannot allow anyone, infected or not, into this country.
“There is no other way. We cannot help the other countries, and they cannot help us. They are sadly on their own. All we can do is keep ourselves safe and bide our time until this catastrophe is over.”

The President waited for a moment, expecting a stream of questions from crowd of reporters, yet not a sound came. An occasional clap sometimes made its way out, only to be quickly stifled by the choking silence. All the reporters sat there, as if contemplating the information that had just received, wondering what the future would hold. The President, satisfied, walked away. At his absence, something moved at the back of the room. A tall figure, dressed in black, partially obscured by a shadow, left the wall he was leaning on and walked out the door.

“What do you want?”
“What do you mean what do I want? You know what I want.”
“Do I?”
“Johnson & Jerry.”
“Go on in,” at that the guard motioned a tall man into the elevator. “Take it to the thirteenth floor.” The elevator had yellow tape around it and had a sign reading “out of order” hanging from the top of its door. The flooring in front of it was torn apart and various tools seemed to lay discarded about the sides.
“Understood,” the figure walked off to the elevator, his black shoes clacking against the tiled floor. He entered the elevator, adjusted his black tie and pressed a button. The number “13” appeared silhouetted against the glowing background. As the doors closed, the man and guard gave each other a nod.

At that, the phone rang. The guard picked it up and answered with a gruff voice, “Hello?”
“It’s security, there’s a man in elevator thirteen.”
“I know, he’s authorized.”
“He spoke the password?”
“Yeah.”
“Wonder what Ol’ Johnny’s up to.”
“Same here.” The guard set the phone down with a clatter. Then he sat back down to his tedious job.

The elevator, strangely, sped downward. The number thirteen was still highlighted, yet the elevator continued to descend. The man gave a slight yawn and looked at his watch. The elevator dinged and the man stepped out. He entered a dimly lit room with only a long table and several chairs. There was only one man, sitting at the end of the table, a light hanging over his head. He was fully dressed in formal clothing, black and white; a black hat was on his head. The other man sat down across from him.
“I see you don’t have much taste in color.”
“Neither do you.” Both gave a faint smile to this. The suit cases both men were carrying clattered onto the table.
“How’s the wife Laford?”
“Fine. And yours?”
“Celieas been having mood swings lately. Nasty stuff. Started throwing our finest china at me the other day.” Kyle took out a folder and slid it across the table to Larford.
“Ouch.”
“I know. Women, one moment there the joy of your life, the next your burning in the earthen equivalent to Hell.”
“So what’s the job?”
“Nothing much, just slip into a press conference.”
“The one tomorrow?”
“That’s the one. The information’s in the folder. All I want is information, nothing else.”
“Done,” the man stood up and gave him a slight nod and headed back to the elevator.

Laford was sitting down on a park bench, watching the people pass. He had changed now, wearing casual wear. He had on a Yankees cap, his black hair sticking out from underneath it. He was wearing a blue polo shirt and khakis and rugged, used tennis shoes covered his feet. An old couple slowly hobbled along, snuggling against each other. The sun was starting to set and the miniature clock tower was nearing 6:00 pm. A young man, blond hair, tanned skin walked up to him in a Hawaiian shirt. He removed his sunglasses and exclaimed, “Harold?”
“Jarold!” Laford gave a quick cry excitement as he stood up to meet the man.
“Hey! It’s great seeing you again!” A delightful grin played over his face.
“You too.”
“Do you have the information?” a sudden darkness went into Kyle’s eyes as he said it.
“I do.”
“Go on.”
“It’s exactly what you though it was.”
“Exactly?”
“Almost, you overestimated some parts. It takes a few more hours to kill a victim then you originally thought.” Laford noticed that Kyle had been witling at a block of wood. It was now almost completely cut away, only a large sliver remained. “Come-on now, have a seat.”
“Gladly,” again, the same smile passed over his face. Kyle sat down gratefully, watching the people pass. Slowly, little chips of wood fell to the ground and were scattered by the wind. They rolled slowly across the grass. “So is there anything I didn’t know?”
“Nothing too important. Just a little history about the disease, origins, things like that.” Laford began eyeing curiously at the sliver of wood in Kyle’s hand. He too looked at it intently, examining the needle sharp point with care.
“Ahh,” was all Kyle said, all his focus was on the needle he was slowly turning in between his fingers.
“What do you want the info for?”
At last Kyle drove his attention away from the needle and gave a slight chuckle, “You haven’t figured it out?” All Laford did was shake his head from side to side. “Oh. Lawford, assassins need three things to be successful in the business. Power, speed, and…” he gave his needle a rapid flick, sending it straight at Laford’s shoulder. He looked down at the needle as Kyle leaned over and picked it up from his shoulder and held it up to his face, “efficiency.” He gave of a slight chuckle as he examined the fly, stabbed down the middle by the needle.




Private Ryan A. Harpford slept soundly within the Humvee. The sun was to the Humvee’s back, creating a cooling shade in the interior of the vehicle. The red, Baghdad sun was beginning to set, cooling the hot, stuffy air. Around him seemed endless expanses of desert, only disturbed by the scarred city landscape east of him. He continued to sleep soundly, nodding his head back and forth, softly murmuring in his sleep.

He screamed.

A dead body had suddenly landed on the windshield of the Humvee, crumpled, shriveled. It appeared to be a civilian, for it wore little but a dirty white t-shirt and somewhat torn blue pants. His black hair was knotted and dusty, his hands heavily callused, and if Private Ryan could see his feet, they probably were too. The body was clearly a homeless, a poor soul that could not find a home or camp to live in.
Yet it was not the death that made Ryan scream. He was a soldier. Death was almost a daily part of life. He had seen soldiers fall, insurgents fall, civilians fall. He had become neutral to death as the service in the army passed.
Neither was it because of the possibility of explosives strapped to the body. Insurgents had been stealing away dead bodies recently and using them as weapons. Often they would strap explosives with a remote detonator on to them, and lob them into various locations so they could be used as bombs or mines.
It was the black spots on his face, the internal bleeding. The frozen face seemingly emitting a silent scream. The bulging eyes staring down at Ryan. That was what made him scream.

He screamed.

Yet soon he came to his senses, or partially. Since the plague, all military units carried around mandatory oxygen tanks and mask, so if they came in close contact with a plague victim, they still had a chance of surviving. Quickly he strapped his mask on and started the flow of oxygen. A jet of pressurized air started flowing into the mask and slightly calmed Ryan down. He revved the engine and in his panic and floored it, attempting to knock the body of his car. The body rolled up the windshield and onto the back of the car from the sudden acceleration. Getting caught in the gunner’s railing, it stuck there for a few seconds before rolling over it and dropping down the gunner port. The body fell with a sickening thump into the car. Ryan looked behind him at the body, now lying only some two or three feet behind him. He screamed within his mask, then vomited. Attempting to look through the great, orange smear that covered his mask, he tried his best to open a small compartment in the dashboard. The flap at last opened and he took out a small pin from his vest pocket. Carefully, he tried using it to push the small, red button embedded into the frame. He finally pushed it and a slight beep came faintly over the engine. Instantly he slammed the brakes and gave the car a sharp turn, coming to a near immediate stop. He threw the door open and leaped out. A sudden explosion filled the quite twilight.